


Lips Tip

by EveningInHornersCorners



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Cross-Posted on LiveJournal, Gen, Triple Drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-05-02 01:57:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19189585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EveningInHornersCorners/pseuds/EveningInHornersCorners
Summary: Napoleon's womanizing experience comes in handy sometimes.





	Lips Tip

Napoleon looked up from the requisition form he was filling out and studied his partner for a moment.

“I take it your weekend was not as quiet as you’d hoped it would be?”

“What makes you say that, my friend?” Illya asked as he fed a new piece of paper into his typewriter.

“Maybe the fact that there’s a bandage the size of Siberia on your cheek? You look like you did the day after that THRUSHie at the automat tried to relocate your eye socket.”

Illya sighed. “I am afraid this was an attack of a different kind.” He hesitated briefly, then pulled back the bandage for his partner to see. Napoleon took note of about a dozen tightly clustered circular marks dotting the left half of his friend’s face. A few were smudged, and he was not encouraged when he realized that their color was eerily similar to that of coagulated blood.

Then it clicked.

“Lipstick?”

Illya slumped back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose. “She was a very nice girl, but…zealous. And whatever she was wearing seems to have been industrial strength. I spent most of this morning trying to remove it. As you can see, my efforts were to no avail.” He straightened in his seat and replaced the bandage. “I am going down to the lab later—perhaps someone there can conjure up a solution. In the meantime,” he looked at his partner sternly, “there is no reason for this to get out.”

Napoleon shrugged slightly, then turned back towards his desk. “Or you could buy a jar of cold cream. That should do the trick.”

Illya cocked his head almost imperceptibly. “How do you…?”

“Why _Tovarisch_ ,” Napoleon replied, grinning down at his requisition form, “ _I_ have these problems every weekend.”


End file.
